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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885796">Pounce</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowkeet1/pseuds/sparrowkeet1'>sparrowkeet1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Purr-verse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom Zuko, Dom/sub, F/M, Sub Katara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:48:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowkeet1/pseuds/sparrowkeet1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko is doing just fine in Ba Sing Se. He is halfway through graduate school; he has a handful of friends and a decent roommate and enough time to drink tea with his uncle even when the old man is at his most long-winded. If what he doesn't have is a significant other, well, that's alright with him. He at least hasn't been without his fair share of partners over the years, and he's busy now, anyway, with upper-level engineering classes to attend and a thesis to write. He isn't looking for anyone. </p><p>Then he takes over his roommate's TA job, just for a week, and meets one of the organic chemistry students, Katara. She is pretty and sharp and sweet all at once, and even though he isn't looking, being with her feels like <em>finding.</em> </p><p>--</p><p><em>Purr</em>, as told by Zuko.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Purr-verse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>297</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pounce</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuko really, really doesn’t want to do this.</p><p>He’s not even totally sure how he got suckered into it. All he remembers is wandering into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker and hearing the unmistakable sound of Haru puking his guts out through his bedroom door. He is not particularly close to his roommate—they had found each other through the Graduate Students’ Association as two PhD candidates looking to split rent—but Haru is nice enough, and he sounds like he’s dying, so Zuko takes a steadying breath and goes to check on him. </p><p>“Haru? Are you okay?” </p><p>Haru is slumped on the bathroom tile when Zuko finds him. “I think,” Haru grimaces, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, “I have a 24-hour bug or something. I just woke up and—” He gestures vaguely toward the toilet. </p><p>“You need, uh, help?” Zuko hovers by the bathroom door, torn between how miserable Haru looks and how acrid the room smells.</p><p>Thankfully, Haru shakes his head. “I’m just going to sleep it off. I don’t have class today.” Then he mutters a string of curses. <em>“Office hours.”</em> </p><p>Ah, yes. Zuko is very familiar with Haru’s Monday-Wednesday-Friday afternoon commitment. It is a requirement of Haru’s graduate program in chemistry, one that seems mostly exhausting and thankless. The only redeeming factor appears to be that Haru has fallen hard for one of his students, so much so that he has told Zuko all about her despite the fact that they are not, generally speaking, very talkative men. Zuko always just nods—the girl sounds sweet, if a little high-strung—whenever this happens, which is more or less three times a week like clockwork. </p><p>It’s not immediately clear if Haru is concerned about missing office hours because it’s the source of his stipend or because it means not seeing his undergraduate sweetheart. The answer becomes regrettably apparent when Haru looks up at Zuko hopefully and says, “You took Organic II.” </p><p>Zuko blinks. </p><p>“And you made an A.” </p><p>“How do you even know that?” </p><p>“You said it once when I was talking about Katara. I think you said that she must not be <em>that</em> good a student, because you made an A without going to office hours three times a week every week.” </p><p>Zuko winces. That does sound like something he would say if he were in an uncharitable mood, but it is not something he would like to have said. He’s still working on not being snappish; poor Haru gets the brunt of it when he is, just by virtue of being the guy who is <em>there</em> most of the time. </p><p>“So you could fill in for me,” Haru continues. </p><p>“What?” Zuko is unsure how Haru has come to that conclusion. </p><p>“Just for today. My adviser will kill me if I cancel. But you understand Organic II.” </p><p>“But not how to be a tutor! And I have to—” Before Zuko can finish his protest, Haru’s face goes suddenly pale, and he lurches over the toilet bowl. </p><p>“Okay,” Zuko says quickly, backing out of the doorway. “Okay, I’ll do it. Text me the room number. I, uh, gotta go to class—” </p><p>He makes it out just in time. </p><p>***</p><p>Zuko finds the chemistry building study hall without too much trouble and posts up at the desk in the front of the room. He has spent all morning in class and now has his own homework; he wonders again how he got conned into spending two hours with whiny undergraduates without even being the person who gets paid for it. Haru has promised him no one will come except the girl—Kaitlyn?—and that she is sweet as can be. Yeah, Zuko had almost told him, maybe as your lovebird, but she’s going to be pissed to see me instead of her chemistry knight-in-shining-armor. But he had managed to refrain from being snappish this time, simply sending Haru a thumbs-up. </p><p>Now he waits. </p><p>Sure enough, at one-on-the-dot light footsteps trot up the stairs. It has to be the girl Haru talks about—her arms are full of binders; a pen is jammed in her wild, messy bun. He is a little surprised to note that even in leggings and a sweatshirt, she is pretty, with aquiline features and smooth dark skin. </p><p>Though she’s not really his type, Zuko has to grudgingly admit Haru has good taste. </p><p>“Haru,” she sighs without looking up, “I think I’m—” </p><p>The words die on her lips when she realizes Zuko is not her o-chem soul-mate. He barely processes wide blue eyes before they are narrowed squarely at him, her hands on her hips. </p><p>“You’re not Haru.” </p><p>The way she has snapped it at him—he can’t keep the smirk off his face. Feisty girls are so <em>fun</em>. “No, I’m not.” </p><p>“Who are you? Where’s Haru?” </p><p>Oh, she <em>is</em> pissed. At least Haru’s love isn’t unrequited—he had been a little worried about that, but not anymore. “Haru is sick. I’m Zuko. I’m his roommate.” </p><p>“And this makes you qualified to TA organic chemistry?” </p><p>Very pissed. <em>Very</em> feisty. </p><p>“It doesn’t, but I did make an A in the class, which was good enough for the electrical engineering PhD program.”</p><p>“Oh.” Her dark skin goes dusky red. Flushed and suddenly shy, she is even prettier. </p><p>“Oh,” he repeats. He gets lazily to his feet; her name pops into his head. Not Kaitlyn. “You must be Katara.” He swings around a chair to sit next to her. </p><p>She gives him the side-eye. “Yes. Nice to meet you.” </p><p>“Haru told me about you, said you’d be here for sure.” Her textbook is unopened; he doesn’t have all day. “Well, let’s see it.” </p><p>She shuffles through a truly impressive array of materials and finally locates a barely-started sheet of homework problems. “I’m just not very good at synthesis,” she says by way of explanation, her tone sheepish</p><p>He thinks at first that of course she’s not. It had been a rude thing to say to Haru that she must not be a very good student, but he was sure it had at least been accurate. Then he looks more closely at her work so far, and it’s perfectly on track. “This part is right,” he says, tapping the page, “so I know you are good at it. You’re just stuck somewhere in here.” The next step is obvious—if she can get to this point, why can’t she get to the rest? “Walk me through your process.” </p><p>He likes the way she sketches the reactions in the air as she talks; her fingers move fluidly, gracefully, until they don’t, until they stutter over where she is obviously confused. “Hold on,” he says. “That’s exactly where you’re stuck.” He explains what he remembers, finding himself gesturing like she did. He can see it in her face when the concept becomes clear, and she flies through the rest of the problem and onto the next.</p><p>It is strangely gratifying to see her eyes light up and her looping script fill the page. He watches her work over her shoulder, catching where her pencil hesitates. She glances up at him when it does, her mouth half-open in question, and he leans in to answer before she can ask. She never makes the same mistake twice, and all her hang-ups are conceptual. He is going to have to amend his judgement—it must not be that she is a bad student but that she has a bad professor. Once she understands the lessons, she zips through the problems, and it doesn’t take her very long to understand. </p><p>So the girl is sharp and pretty and none-too-sweet to him, but apparently she is to Haru. Zuko has to hand it to him; his chattering about her hasn't fully conveyed the way she learns fast and works faster or the way her eyes are like the sea on a cloudless day. Then she checks off her last problem and turns a brilliant smile on him and says, “Thank you. You’re a really talented teacher,” and he finds the sweetness in those earnest words. </p><p>He grins at the compliment. “I know.” </p><p>***</p><p>Tuesday, Haru is still sick. Zuko leaves some soup and crackers out in the kitchen but hides in his office to work as far from the germs as possible. Shut up in the little room, his mind drifts. Haru had called to him that morning, “Did you meet Katara? Isn’t she nice?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Zuko had called back from a safe distance. His affirmative was more to the former question than to the latter. As far as that question goes, he isn’t sure of the answer. </p><p>She had been nice to him at the end, though at the beginning she had been anything but. Still, Haru knows her far better than he does. The start must have been a fluke; she must be as sweet as Haru says. </p><p>Zuko doesn’t like sweet girls. He likes feisty ones. He likes to take them apart, to turn them sweet under his hand, but girls who are nice from the beginning—he doesn’t know what to do with those girls, never has. He’s never had one, anyway; his only serious girlfriend, Mai—well, nice probably isn’t the word that first comes to mind. </p><p>On the other side of several years of therapy—not to mention an ocean—it isn’t hard to see that Mai hadn’t been a good partner. It doesn’t hurt that in the intervening time, he has had several partners who were absolutely delightful. In undergrad, in the relative anonymity of a huge university, he had gotten a real handle on what he liked. He had been with girls who were bratty without being cruel, who teased him without trying to hurt him, who wanted to provoke him into taking control because they actually wanted to give it up. </p><p>It had been a revelation at first—that he, who had never had an ounce of control in his life, could give orders to girls who had never had an ounce of freedom. They wanted to let go; he wanted to take charge. He wanted to earn it; they wanted to let him. And so he had learned how to spot them, girls who wanted to submit but wouldn’t give up without a fight—their eyes would glint and their mouths would smirk but their faces would flush when he towered over them; their lips would part when a noise rose in his throat like a growl. He found them in clubs or on dating apps, or they found him; here the scar worked in his favor, as did the brooding look he could never quite shake no matter how many therapy sessions he went to. They found each other and he found out how to break them down. He has gotten very, very good at it. </p><p>Since he has been in graduate school, though, he hasn’t had time to play. He doesn’t really feel like going out; the Tinder app on his phone had just been a distraction and has long since been deleted. He hasn’t had his hands on a girl since he finished undergrad. </p><p>He tells himself that’s why he sees that streak of brattiness in Katara—it’s been too long since he has gotten laid, and he’s just finding what he wants to find. She is a sweet girl, not to mention Haru’s sweet girl. She isn’t his type. Whatever fiery words she had snapped his way at the beginning weren’t typical for her. There’s no need to reconcile her sharp eyes with her soft smile, no need to figure out if her kindness is truly unmerited or he just earned it a different way than he is used to. </p><p>There is no call whatsoever for him to wonder if the pretty flush on her cheeks or the way her lips parted in unspoken questions was very, very familiar, or just his mind playing tricks on him. </p><p>***</p><p>Wednesday finds Zuko grudgingly in the chemistry building again. That morning, Haru had still looked pale and drawn, so Zuko had shooed him to the doctor and offered to take over office hours against his better judgement. Apparently, no good deed goes unpunished, because there are a handful of students already in the room when he gets there. He checks his watch—he’s not late. </p><p>Smothering a sigh, he gets started, gathering from the first student he helps that there is a test coming up on Monday. Not good for him or them—if there is ever a time you don’t want a substitute TA, it’s before an exam. Still, he is what they have, so he does his best. </p><p>After he has talked to everyone who was in the room when he arrived, he spots Katara in the back row, her hand on the bridge of her nose. She could be making that face about anything, but he’s fairly sure it is directed at him. He pulls up a chair next to her. “Kat. Do people call you Kat?”</p><p>She glowers. “No.” </p><p>He can’t help but grin. “Great.” </p><p>Katara opens the book with a <em>bang</em> that seems to indicate his teasing is getting to her. “This reaction. It doesn’t make sense.” </p><p>He tells himself again that Haru is certain she is a nice girl, and he can’t possibly be wrong. It’s just that, now, with him, she is feisty as can be, those blue eyes flashing, and then when Zuko studies her, she flushes that pretty pink under his gaze.</p><p>He forces his eyes back to her paper and helps her with the problem she is stuck on. Just as before, he can see understanding dawn on her, and she is plowing through the assignment in no time. The other students raise their hands or catch his eye, and he goes to them, but when his gaze slides almost involuntarily back to Katara, sometimes her mouth has fallen half-open in question, and he can’t help but drift back to her desk. He is a sucker for that look, though she probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it. </p><p>No, there is no way she is making that face on purpose. He’s sure of it when he sits down next to her and bumps her leg with his and she swallows audibly and freezes. The press of his thigh into hers is an accident, but he doesn’t move away, fascinated by her reaction. She doesn’t move away, either, but she doesn’t move toward him, not the way she would if she were flirting with him on purpose. She doesn’t take the next step in the dance he knows—she must not know it. </p><p>That is very, very interesting. Zuko understands the give-and-take of meeting a new girl who wants to give so he can take, but he has never been with a girl who wanted that without knowing she wanted it. And yet he has never been wrong, never failed to recognize the signs, and Katara is giving them off loud and clear. Haru has misjudged her; there is more to this smart quick girl than <em>nice</em>. Much more. </p><p>She has gone back to work, though not without a blush high on her cheekbones, and he skims the page behind her. Everything looks right to him, and he watches her check off her last problem with something like pride. She really is a quick learner, and underneath the hammering of his heart in his ribs he is happy to have slotted some concepts in place for her. It’s a shame her professor is no good. </p><p>It’s a shame, too, he can’t help but think, that Haru isn’t a better teacher—some of what he has explained to her is foundational and should have been spelled out long ago. </p><p>Katara has started zipping up her backpack; he teases her, “No thank-you today? No compliment?” </p><p>Without looking up, she snips, “Please tell me Haru will be back on Friday.” </p><p>He starts at the bitter flare of jealousy that rises within him. “Come on,” he says, more sharply than he intended. “Haru tells me you’re a nice girl. Tells me nonstop, actually.” He doesn’t say, you aren’t <em>just</em> a nice girl, are you—does Haru know that? Do you? </p><p>At his words a grimace flickers across her face. It’s brief, but unmistakable. <em>Fascinating.</em> </p><p>“Is he okay?” she asks him softly. There’s that sweetness; he feels bad for snapping at her. </p><p>“Yeah, he’s getting there. He thinks Friday he’ll be ok, maybe Monday.” </p><p>She grimaces again, this time in earnest. “We’ll hope Friday. There’s a test Monday morning.” </p><p>He can’t resist. “You mean I’m not good enough to help you study for your test?” </p><p>She actually rolls her eyes at him, like a proper little brat. “Bye, Zuko.” </p><p>“Bye, Kat.” </p><p>“Don’t call me that!”</p><p>He grins. </p><p>***</p><p>Thursday night, alone is his room in the dark, he thinks of the last girl he’d been with. They had spent nearly all of his senior year together, blowing off steam in his bed. June—not nice a girl at all, but she’d been the perfect partner, always a brat, always making him work for it. He shoves a hand down his pajama pants as he pictures her, her long black hair wrapped around his fist as he feeds her his cock, her pale skin stained red from open-handed blows he rained over her thighs and ass, her dark-painted lips slack with pleasure when she finally, finally gave in. She had never once been sweet from the start, never once let him have anything he didn’t earn. </p><p>He doesn’t like sweet girls. He doesn’t like kindness he doesn’t deserve. </p><p>So he doesn’t know why, when arousal coils tighter and tighter in his abdomen, the face in his mind flickers and shifts to Katara’s, to that beatific smile and then to that perfectly bratty eye-roll, and when he comes he imagines spilling over those pretty blushing cheeks. </p><p>***</p><p>Friday, Haru is better, but not back to his normal chipper self. Zuko offers to cover office hours one last time so Haru can recuperate fully; Haru takes him up on it, but not without giving Zuko a strange look when he stumbles over his own tongue in his haste to volunteer. </p><p>When Katara bangs down her stack of textbooks on her usual desk in the chemistry building, Zuko grins and tells her, “Nice to see you, Kat,” and means it. </p><p>“Don’t call me that,” she shoots back, fiery as ever. </p><p>“Now, now,” he chides. “Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to the person who’s going to help you get your precious A?” </p><p>He means it to be teasing, but it must strike a chord, because she immediately drops her head into her hands and mutters, “I think it’s too late for an A.” Her voice isn’t bratty; it’s bitter, and he’s taken aback. </p><p>“You could take it now and get a C. You’ll pass the class one way or the other. It’s not a big deal—only neurotic people care about getting an A every time.” </p><p>Instantly he kicks himself. What was supposed to be reassuring just made him sound like an asshole. Why is he so bad at being good? </p><p>Katara fixes him with a glare. “Also people who need a 3.7 to keep their scholarship and a 4.0 to have a prayer of getting into med school.” </p><p>“Oh.” Spirits, what was he thinking? She is not playing the game with him; she’s just trying to pass Organic II. She might like Haru back or she might not, but she definitely doesn’t like him, and why would she? </p><p>She’s a nice girl. </p><p>Study hall is packed in nervous anticipation of Monday’s exam. Zuko answers everyone’s questions as best he can, but he spends the most time with Katara. It’s the least he can do. Even so, by the end of office hours he catches sight of her lips trembling. His heart twists in his chest as he approaches her after he is done with the last other student. </p><p>“Hey. It’s going to be okay.” He really thinks so—she is smart as a whip, more than capable of understanding the material. She just needs more time with a teacher who can explain it in a way that clicks with her. “Listen,” his mouth offers without his brain’s permission, “if you want more help—I’ll be up here tomorrow.” </p><p>She picks her head up and blinks at him. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” </p><p>He gives a half-laugh at the dumbstruck expression on her face. “I know.” </p><p>Against all odds, she graces him with that sunny smile. “Thank you.” </p><p>He can’t help himself; her smile <em>does</em> something to him. “There are those nice-girl manners.” </p><p>***</p><p>Zuko guiltily avoids Haru for the rest of the day, then tosses and turns all night. He wakes next morning even earlier than usual, and nearly makes it out of the apartment undetected, but Haru emerges from his room while Zuko is lacing up his boots. </p><p>“Hey,” Haru yawns, stretching lazily. “How were office hours yesterday? Was Katara there?” </p><p>“Um,” Zuko says. “Yeah. They were, um, busy. Test Monday, you know. Katara seemed, uh, stressed about it.” </p><p>Haru nods. “Sounds about right.” Then he seems to process Zuko fully dressed with his laptop bag slung over one shoulder. “Where are you going?” </p><p>“Ah, well. I, um, was going to work in the chemistry building today. Katara was really worried, so I, uh, said I’d be there to, you know. Give her some extra time. To study.” </p><p>Haru goggles at him. “I’ve offered to meet her outside office hours, like, a dozen times.” </p><p>“Well, I just told her I’d be there either way. She probably won’t show up.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Haru says slowly. “Probably not.” </p><p>***</p><p>So, Zuko isn’t expecting her. He plugs in his laptop and opens the millionth draft of his dissertation proposal and tries very, very hard not to hope for anything at all. </p><p>His heart leaps into his throat when familiar light footsteps reach his ears. Willing himself to play it cool—just because he is suddenly desperate for her doesn’t mean she is desperate for anything but a good grade on an exam—he keeps his eyes resolutely on his laptop when Katara sweeps in. “Hey, Kat. Sorry, let me finish this real quick.”</p><p>She doesn’t answer him—further evidence that she doesn’t care about seeing him, just learning organic. But, a little voice says in the back of his mind, she doesn’t correct <em>Kat</em>. She always has, and now she hasn’t. </p><p>Then he chances a look up and finds that she is spreading out her papers and sipping a cup of coffee. An identical cup of coffee has made its way onto his desk. <em>What?</em> “Is this for me?” </p><p>She just nods, ducking her head, and his heart <em>somersaults</em>. </p><p>What a sweet girl. What a sharp, smart, fiery, lovely girl who won’t see Haru outside official meetings but is here with him, looking at him shyly through her lashes, asking for so much more than O-chem help. </p><p>Right. O-chem. O-chem first; it wouldn’t do to let her down, and he doubts he could coax her through the next moves of this dance while she’s worried about her test, anyway. Spirits, he has never—he is in uncharted territory with a girl who isn’t certain of every step, who isn’t seeking him out for very specific reasons. He has never had a partner who was new, never had a girl he met in any other context—but he’s getting ahead of himself. He clears his throat and reaches for her textbook. “This is where we left off, right?” </p><p>It is shocking how easy it is to slip into a rhythm with her. She learns fast, as usual, and while she works he returns to his proposal until she needs help again. They go back and forth all morning; it is an entirely different give and take than he is used to, but no less satisfying. He can see her relax, inch by inch, as she makes progress, and he feels strangely, fiercely proud. </p><p>Their routine feels so natural that he is wholly absorbed in his own work when she stands up and says something about lunch. “No, I’m good,” he says absently, frowning at a particular comment his committee has left on his draft. Why does anybody think <em>Clarify?</em> is a helpful piece of feedback? Honestly—</p><p>“Let me,” Katara is saying. “As a thank-you for helping me. Please.”</p><p>The <em>please</em> jolts through him like a shock. <em>Spirits</em>, she can’t possibly be unaware of how well she is playing her part. But she is looking at him in genuine question, her hand poised to grab her jacket, and he realizes it’s been a beat too long since she spoke. “Well,” he manages, “since you asked nicely.” </p><p>He lets her pay for lunch, just this once, because she insists and he already can’t tell her no. He resolves not to let it happen again; his uncle would have a fit if he knew. <em>It is a gentleman’s privilege to treat a lady,</em> Iroh would intone. Zuko looks forward to that particular privilege with this particular lady very, very much. </p><p>They settle at a little table outside and talk while they eat. He learns she is from the South Pole, and she asks about his graduate program, and <em>then.</em> </p><p>Then he learns she is Sokka’s baby sister, and <em>everything</em> makes sense. </p><p>“He used to talk about you all the time,” he explains to her while his brain struggles to catch up, to slot everything together. “He had a habit of saying how great you were and then threatening to strangle anyone who went near you.” </p><p>It’s true. Sokka had been a year behind him in undergrad, but they had belonged to the same loose group of friends, and between studying and parties they had seen a lot of each other. He did talk often about his sister, about how she always bossed him around when they were kids even though he is the older sibling. It was always good-natured, though; he would tell stories of her taking him to task and in the same breath talk about how she was always the caregiver for him and their dad. Zuko never was clear on the details, but he gathered that their mom had been gone for a long time, and it was obvious that Sokka’s sister had taken over as the matriarch.  </p><p>Sokka’s sister, who by all accounts is responsible and kind and at the same time doesn’t take any shit from anybody. Sokka’s sister, who is best friends with Sokka’s girlfriend Suki, who Zuko has known for years now. Sokka’s sister, who is strictly off-limits, who has been taking care of her family for her whole life, who has never had an ounce of freedom. </p><p>Sokka’s sister, Katara, who is here in front of him, who doesn’t know how to be taken care of. </p><p>Katara, who is his pupil and learns fast. </p><p>“That does sound like him,” she is saying fondly of Sokka’s bloviating. </p><p>“And all this time he should’ve been threatening Haru,” Zuko says. </p><p>“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she frowns. <em>Good.</em></p><p>“He’s pretty into you,” he offers. </p><p>“He’s nice. Just not for me. Not right now.”</p><p>Maybe she is busy with schoolwork. “Maybe later?” he guesses. He has to be sure.</p><p>She shrugs. “Maybe. Probably not. There’s not really any spark there, you?” Of course there isn’t, he thinks, because he doesn’t understand you, doesn’t know how to parse what you need. “But I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” she adds. </p><p>“Haru’s a big boy.” He stands up before he can tell her that <em>he</em> knows what she needs. “Better get back to it.” </p><p>He reminds himself they both have actual work to do. He has to do this right, anyway, has to pull her carefully into the dance. After-school tutoring is not usually how he takes care of his partners, but he likes it, likes knowing he is helping her. He gets his reward when she gives him a sunny smile at the end of the night and says, “You saved my GPA. Maybe my sanity.” </p><p>That lovely grin short-circuits his brain. He can only shrug and mumble something about Haru being back Monday even though Monday is exam day, so why have office hours?</p><p>“We covered new material on Friday,” she says primly. </p><p>“Overachiever,” he mutters. </p><p>She is still beaming at him. “Night, Zuko.”</p><p>“Night, Kat.” </p><p>***</p><p>Sunday, he is found out. Haru catches him making coffee and asks, a little too casually, “Did Katara come yesterday?” </p><p>Zuko hides his mouth behind his mug and nods. </p><p>Haru’s face falls. “She must really like you.” </p><p>“I—” Zuko starts to say he’s not sure about that, except he is. He’s very, very sure. </p><p>“It’s okay,” Haru sighs. “I should have known, right? She would have met me outside office hours if she wanted to.”</p><p>Zuko shrugs uncomfortably. “You couldn’t have known.” </p><p>That is all there is to say about that. Zuko escapes to his room as soon as possible, coffee in hand, and scrolls idly through Netflix while his mind drifts back to sea-blue eyes over and over.</p><p>*** </p><p>Sunday, he tips his hand. He cannot go to Sokka—he won’t cross that rickety bridge unless and until he has too—but Sokka’s girlfriend, Suki—Suki can be discreet. Suki will know what he wants to know. </p><p>Z: <em>You’re friends with Sokka’s sister, right?</em></p><p>Suki texts him back right away. </p><p>S: <em>Yes. Why, what’s up? Is something wrong? Is she okay?</em></p><p>Zuko bites back a laugh. </p><p>Z: <em>Nothing is wrong. She’s fine. Don’t worry.</em> </p><p>S: <em>Whew, sorry. I just didn’t even know you knew Katara.</em> </p><p>Z: <em>I just met her last week. I’ve been helping her with organic chemistry.</em> </p><p>S: <em>I also didn’t know you tutored.</em> </p><p>Z: <em>I don’t. I was filling in for Haru.</em></p><p>S: <em>I see. And you’ve taken a scholarly interest in your pupil?</em> </p><p>Z: <em>Something like that. Does she have a favorite restaurant?</em> </p><p>S: <em>Zuko, you dog. Are you wooing your friend’s little sister?</em> </p><p>Z: <em>I will be, if you give me her number and answer my question.</em> </p><p>Suki sends him Katara’s contact. </p><p>S: <em>Take her to Osaka. It’s this sushi place not far off campus. She loves it.</em> </p><p>S: <em>And DON’T screw this up.</em> </p><p>He swallows against the first flutter of nerves he has felt about chasing a girl since he was a teenager. </p><p>Z: <em>I won’t.</em> </p><p>He hopes not. </p><p>***</p><p>Sunday, he gives in. </p><p>As his hand drifts down his body, he doesn’t even pretend to think of June. He thinks instead of wide blue eyes, how they might grow dark and stormy with desire. He thinks of pretty pink lips, how they might part to release sighs and moans and maybe, maybe his name, if he plays this just right, plays <em>her</em> just right. He pictures all that smooth dark skin stretched out beneath him, imagines tangling his fingers in those wild curls, thinks about taking her apart piece by piece until she isn’t thinking at all. He imagines holding her while her body shakes, kissing her as she comes down from the high, drinking in that lovely sunny smile, only now it is shot through with satisfaction. He imagines her, sweet and sleepy and sated, and comes so hard it knocks the breath from his lungs. </p><p>Katara, Katara. He drifts off with her name half-formed in his mouth.</p>
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